


One Tenth of a Century

by miss_nettles_wife



Category: Eerie Indiana
Genre: Celebrations, Corruption, F/M, Future Fic, Supernatural Elements, dark!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 03:03:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12949911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_nettles_wife/pseuds/miss_nettles_wife
Summary: Dash Teller and his wife attend Mayor Teller's tenth consecutive year as the leader of their little town. Things do not go as planned.





	One Tenth of a Century

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the sunday prompt 'Decade' over on the Eerie Indiana com. I just really really love dark!Mars.

Mayor Teller’s house is a veritable mansion. In the nicest neighborhood in Eerie, hidden behind shrubbery and a massive black gate, sat the almost cartoonish giant mansion. Dash pulled the car around a massive water feature that, despite the late hour was still spitting crystal clear water into the sky.   
“Does Uncle Marshall really live here?” His daughter asked him, from the backseat, evidently as amazed as he was. They barely came down this part of town, most of the times she’d seen Marshall had been at Christmas gatherings at the Teller house.   
“He certainly does.” His wife, Cynthia, said, opening a compact with her left hand and dabbing at her nose with the puff inside.  
“Wow.” Erin whispered, as the car finally came to a stop.

Dash got out first, and then went around the back of the car to open the door first for Erin, and then for Cynthia. She ready did look beautiful, he thought, as they walked up to the front door. The sparkly red dress was billowy and required two petticoats to achieve the correct level of, according to her, poof. Erin was wearing her best green dress and a pair of Mary Janes, and wearing a tiny cross body bag, which she was proudly declaring her first handbag.

Dash rang the doorbell, and Cynthia reached out with one hand to adjust his tie.   
“You look very handsome.” She said, voice soft. Before he can reply, the massive door swings open, revealing his mother in law.   
“Grandma!” Erin said, excitedly as Marylin lifted her up onto her hip.   
“Hi mom.” Cynthia said, leaning down in her towering high heels to kiss her on the cheek.   
“Hi sweetheart.” She said, stepping aside, to let both her and Dash into the house.

Dash trailed after, wondering why Marshall had never hired someone to do this sort of thing for him, God only knows he had the money. Dash slid off his coat, and hung it up on a hook, and then took Cynthia’s for her. Erin was wearing a sweater and didn’t want to take it off.

They walked through to the living room, where Edgar was sitting on the couch. He smiled when they entered and gave a little wave. Dash likes Marylin and Edgar well enough, they were perfectly acceptable in-laws, and they loved to spoil their grandchildren, like, he was reliably informed, any good grandparent. While the three of them caught up on current family events, most of which Dash had no interest in, he wandered over to examine the pictures decorating the top of the fireplace. Dash knows better than to trust anything, from his own memories to the pictures to do with the past. Marshall seems to be able to manipulate it at will, and Dash, to his concern, can only tell sometimes.

A picture of Marshall being sworn in, Janet standing in the background, utterly beaming. A Christmas picture of Marshall, Simon and himself that he doesn’t remember taking. Marshall’s wedding day, Janet draped head to toe in lace, Marshall pressed into his best suit. Birthday pictures of Marshall’s daughter, with Janet standing in the background, face grim, a cigarette between her teeth. She knew that Mallory wasn’t hers. Of course, she did. Edgar says something that makes everyone laugh, so he turns away from the past to the present.

Marshall’s grey-haired daughter was sitting on his lap.  She was a petite child, wearing a pair of pink gloves, with lacy cuffs. The day the kid showed up, Dash nearly had a heart attack. She just appeared in their lives, and everyone else seemed to think she’d been there forever. He didn’t know exactly the day she arrived, or why, but she looked just like him.  

They were only waiting for a few minutes before Marshall entered the room with a flourish. He was prone to dramatics since he took over the town. Maybe that was cruel. He was elected mayor, though the validity of the votes was still undecided. Behind him, he could see Simon, holding a clipboard, eyes hollowed out and empty. He used to be angry. He’s not anymore. He’s just sad things turned out like this.

Anger never got him anywhere, not with convincing Simon to leave before something like this happened. Not with trying to convince Janet to stay. Not with trying to fix the portal in the Loyal Order of Corn. Not with his marriage, and it certainly wouldn’t with his daughter. Which is what he has now. A daughter. His only priority was making sure she didn’t end up like the dozens of children on milk cartoons he’d seen since he took up at The World O’ Stuff, and ensuring Syndi didn’t end up part of a cult of housewives. She could look after herself, most of the time, but then, he’d thought Simon could too. Solving weirdness is secondary to surviving it.

“Good evening, everyone!” He said, brushing his sandy blonde hair out of his eyes with one hand. Dash folded his arms and leant on the mantle. “Thank you all for joining me tonight to celebrate my first decade as mayor of Eerie!” Why he had only his family when he could have had a big party was beyond Dash. If there was a big party for The Powers That Be, then he didn’t classify.   
“Well here’s to hoping there’s another!” Marylin said, excitedly. Marshall grinned, his green eyes crinkled at the sides.   
“Exactly.” He said, “Are you all ready to eat? I had a caterer prepare all of everyone’s favorite foods.”  
“Is there fish fingers?” Erin asked, at some point she had been transferred to Cynthia’s hip, probably because Marylin had been having hip problems lately.   
“Of course there is.” Marshall said, standing far too close to them for comfort. “Would it be a party without fish fingers?” Erin grinned, and shook her head no. They filed into the massive dining hall.

The windows were floor length, and you could see into his backyard, there is another water feature, a gazebo and what could only be described as a Fairy Garden, which Mallory had described to him once. Supposedly, it belonged to her. Dash thought about his own home, a neat little two bedder in a middle of the road suburb with a postage stamp backyard, how much he wanted to be back there.

The table was displayed like a banquet. The centerpiece is a large bird with another bird on its back. It’s hideous. Apparently, Cynthia thought the same, because she nudged his shoulder and chuckled. He scoffed and took a seat next to her at the table. Erin, being a child, had not even waited for everyone else to sit before grabbing fish fingers. Mallory is the opposite. Quiet and patient. She waited for Marshall to serve her. The ideal child.

Dash served himself potatoes and had half an ear turned into the discussion. Something to do with Marshall’s rival, an up and comer called Sonya Rebbechi. Dash has seen her around, during the campaign, but she didn’t stand a chance. Poor woman.

Eventually, he found himself watching his daughter again. When she was born, Dash had been worried she’d be like him. But she wasn’t. Her hair was brown, just like her mother. Thick and straight. She had his eyes. Janet told him once that they reminded her of eightballs. His eyes drifted to his wife. He still didn’t know if he was in love with her, but it didn’t matter. Being married to her meant that Marshall couldn’t easily cut him off, so he could keep one eye on him. On what he did.

Distantly, he became aware of a key turning in a lock. He looked up just in time to make eye contact with Marshall. The lock was followed by a click clacking on the tiles. Like footsteps. Marshall started doing a headcount of his guest. Dash turned to watch as a figure made their way through the room behind them.

She was wearing one of those dresses that are cut just a little too low, and  slit  on the leg that goes up a little too high. Her combat boots were laced to the ankle, and on her left hand, a wedding ring sparkled brightly in the lights. To top off the look, she was wearing a motorcycle helmet, probably to conceal her identity. Figures any gate crashers Marshall might have would share is flair for the dramatic.

If this was a movie, this scene would be in slow motion, Dash thought, as she stuck her fingers under the chin of the helmet, tugging it off her head. A tumble of red hair spilled down over her chest, and she gave a blinding smile. Dash would be remiss to not mention the fact that she seemed to have a small gemstone stuck to one of her incisor teeth.

“Mars, baby. Don’t tell me you thought I was going to miss your ten year celebration?” Janet Teller said, dropping the helmet on a chair at the table. Marshall’s face was drained of colour, his daughters face was lit up like a Christmas tree at the arrival of her ‘mother’.

Dash let out a deep sigh; seemed like it was going to be one hell of a night.

 


End file.
